


In many ways, for many days (each and every way I love you)

by SnapbackPirat



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Baristas, Chase being a fuckin LOSER, Coma, Cultural Differences, Drunkenness, F/F, F/M, Fair Folk, Flower Fairy AU, Fluff, I really like Clay/Jack lololol it shows, Innacurate botany, Kimiko Tohomiko is totally bi, Kimiko ever the voice of reason, Language of Flowers, M/M, Married Couple, More drunkenness, More drunkenness? Jesus, Pizza, Romance, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, all's well that ends well, medical setting, mild possessiveness, obligatory coffee shop au, pizza delivery, posessiveness, proposal, repetitive trope use, sad!, shitty tropes, touch-starved Chase, you're a doctor! you're a doctor! EVERYONE gets to be a doctor!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnapbackPirat/pseuds/SnapbackPirat
Summary: Chack drabbles/ministories as I try and work through a huge au prompt list that's been sitting in my google docs.1) "Will you marry me? Also, surprise, I’m actually foreign royalty."2) “you’re the only delivery person who gets to my house in any semblance of the word fast which is why i keep requesting you but you don’t believe me and tease me constantly about it”3. “We’re both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU but also thanks” (altered) - fixed the formatting & reposted





	1. Secretly Royalty AU

**Author's Note:**

> I've finished all of these so far at 2 in the morning using cellphones so forgive me for any spelling mistakes. Enjoy!!

  * "Will you marry me? Also, surprise, I’m actually foreign royalty."



* * *

 

“Goodnight, Jack,” Chase said, almost _sadly_ , from the doorway of the fancy restaurant. Jack simply strode quicker while fumbling for his cellphone, trying to calculate how much a taxi home would cost.

And the night had started so well, too.

It was their third anniversary, and both Chase and Jack had cleared their schedules in order to spend the day together, which was a feat in itself; Chase being a high-and-mighty tech CEO and Jack being one of his leading technical engineers. But, because Chase made the rules at Long Industries, they’d both been able to sleep in late that day, followed by some wonderful fun involving some chocolate-covered strawberries. After that they’d taken a stroll and had a picnic (in the middle of fall, yes, but it wasn’t so bad, not when you had someone like Chase Young to snuggle up to), and had retreated home in order to change for a fancy dinner that night.

And, while it may sound rather presumptuous, Jack just _knew_ that Chase was going to propose that night; Chase never did anything in halves, and their relationship had been proceeding at a comfortably fast pace. ( _You try and resist Chase Young’s smirk,_ Jack would say to the doubters.)

And he was right.

Well, mostly.

They’d gotten to the restaurant and been quickly bustled in, their tuxes pristine and Chase’s reputation (and nearly impossible reservation) a mark in their favor. They’d been seated, popped a bottle of some _wonderfully_ aged wine, and had been chatting comfortably until Chase had taken one solitary, unusual deep breath and took both Jack’s hands in his own.

“Jack,” he’d said, eyes simply _smoldering_ in the low light, and Jack’s heartbeat had rocketed without him saying even anything else. Gods, but Jack just fucking _loved_ this man.

“There are two important things I want to do and say tonight, but unfortunately, one cannot be said without the other,” Chase preluded. “So please forgive me my inelegance.”

And with that, he brought out a slim black velvet box.

Jack thought he might seriously cry right then and there.

“Most importantly-- Jack Spicer, I want to marry you. Most people do not move so fast, I know, but I’m not the type to waste time, and I know that, without a shadow of a doubt, I want you to be a permanent part of my life. Every day I wake up with you, I feel blessed, and every night we go to sleep, I thank the stars for our meeting,” he announced calmly, and took another deep breath. While Jack was still silently blown away, Chase leaned into him, and his renewed grip on Jack’s hands tightened.

“However. Before you say yes or no, there is something... rather important, that may influence your decision. I can only hope that is does not do so, but...” dear gods, was Chase _nervous?_ Jack rubbed his thumbs along Chase’s hands encouragingly.

“Go on, babe,” he grinned encouragingly at Chase. “Whatever it is can’t be _that_ bad.” Chase nodded.

“There is... no delicate way to put this, I believe,” he admitted, tentatively. “So I will put it as simply as possible... Jack. I am--” he huffed, agitated at his own hesitancy.

“I’m royalty.”

Jack blinked, once, twice, and attempted to quirk a grin, but his face didn’t respond.

“What?” Chase huffed.

“I’m of royal blood, Jack.” And then he set off into an explanation; he was one of the few remaining male relatives of some royal family that had gone down quietly into history, although they were still incredibly influential in the small country that they apparently somewhat-ruled.

“If you agree to marry me, Jack, you’ll technically become prince-consort,” he admitted, hands stiff on Jack’s. “And while it’s not a big country to rule, it will still be involved in your daily life. My parents allowed me to venture out into the world in order to build myself, and eventually bring back someone to wed and settle down there. We could rebuild, but we’d be leaving most everything we know behind. I need you to know before you- _if,_ you marry me,” he ground out, and Jack thought that Chase may honestly for the first time since Jack had known him been _nervous._

Jack... computed the new information. Or at least he tried to.

The information cycled through his brain once, twice; he thought briefly of the Princess Diaries series, and tried to laugh, but only managed one half-formed huff. He shook his head, staring at the vague area of Chase’s chest, all while completely zoned out. He blinked. Waited for the camera and some shitty reality TV show host to jump out of nowhere and declare he’d been punked.

When none of that cleared and no one came to his aid, he took one deep breath, and didn’t exhale.

“Right,” he declared, and swiftly rose from the table. Chase seemed a bit startled, if a man like him could be.

“Jack?”

“Right. Royalty. Okay.” he continued, gathering up his jacket. He strode towards the door, and was halfway through the waiting room when he felt a strong grip on his arm and was (a bit roughly) spun around.

“Jack-”

“Just gimme a minute,” Jack burst, a bit louder than he intentioned. There weren’t many people in the foyer, but whoever was, they were definitely paying attention to them now.

“I, I need a little while to think about this. I need- just. Just let me think about it.” he babbled, quieter now, rubbing his face roughly with the hand that wasn’t clutching his tux. He felt more than saw Chase’s jerky nod, and though he loosened his grip on Jack’s arm, he didn’t let go as Jack walked toward the door.

He felt better when the cool autumn air hit him, admittedly, but no more centered than before. Jack inhaled a bit shakily, closing his eyes at the wonderfully calming night weather while Chase hung in the doorway, shadowed amber-golden eyes still bright, assessing. His hand lingered on Jack’s arm, no longer gripping but stroking his shirtsleeve, a reassuring tic.

“Will I see you later?” Chase asked quietly, watching avidly as Jack was illuminated in the moonlight. He almost didn’t answer, but Jack muttered some shitty ‘maybe’ answer.

“I’ll call you,” he said, patting Chase’s hand delicately before disentangling the clinging fingers, Chase’s only physical connection, his only visible show of possession. Chase’s jaw clenched and his eyes flicked wildly over Jack’s face, since he was avoiding his gaze.

“Alright,” Chase murmured.

And that was where the night had left him, slipping into a cab outside a fancy restaurant on the day of his and his apparently princely boyfriend’s anniversary.

Jack was still fumbling through the contacts in his phone when the cab driver asked him what their destination was. Scrolling through the names, he sighed shakily, focused on one, and told the guy the address before clicking the ‘call’ button next to the name on the screen.

For a few nerve-wracking seconds, the receiver didn’t pick up, until _finally_ the familiar voice did.

“Hey, Kimi? Can I come over?”

///

Jack knew he was lucky when Kimiko Tohomiko was waiting for him at the door to her house at half past eight. It was a long ass cab ride to her house, and while they were friends, it wouldn’t have been out of character for her to deny him entry and make him drive all the way home, she seemed to judge him that night with a sort of supportive sympathy. He hated it, but when she let him in, it didn’t feel quite so bad.

Kimiko’s house was large and comfortably furnished, as befitting a tech mogul’s heir, but she still owned a ratty old couch from her college days that was more comfortable than it had any right to be. They settled on the red and yellow Chinese rip-off monstrosity with premade cups of hot chocolate, Kimiko in a comfy orange robe and Jack in his shirt and suit pants, tux jacket draped over the arm.

“You sounded wrecked on the phone,” she said, straight to the point. Jack exhaled deeply and rested his head on his hand, eyes closed, taking comfort in the feeling of warm ceramic against his hand and thigh.

“I felt kinda wrecked,” he admitted. “Still kinda do. Less so though, more anxious than anything.”

“I’ll help. Whenever you’re ready,” she replied easily, curling up and digging her feet in between the cushions. And, after a long draw from his hot chocolate and a deep sigh, he began, regaling her with the well of information his lover had dropped on him not but forty minutes ago.

They sat in silence for a while afterward, each tumbling the information over in their minds. Jack was busy rehashing the memories agonizingly when Kimiko prodded him with her bare foot.

“Hey. Stop thinking so much,” she commanded, and he did. “It’s a major detail. What do you think?”

“I don’t really know what to think. That’s why I came to you,” he replied wryly, to which she kicked his arm gently. He quickly faded into sobriety though.

“I’m... scared. Hopeful. Pretty fuckin’ nervous. I’m not meant to be royalty of _any_ sort, I don’t know the first thing about it. I’m a techie. People and politics aren’t _nearly_ as easy to navigate as circuit boards, Kimi, that’s why I work in the field that I do. How could I marry him knowing I’d probably send it all to shit? I love him, I do, _so_ much, but he’d my first serious relationship since, well... You. How do I know that I’m enough, that I’m...-” he asked, quaking inside. Numerous fears piled up inside him.

“Hey,” she frowned, sitting up and gently taking his wrist. “Stop thinking like that right now. You didn’t do anything wrong, first of all- we just didn’t click. Our breakup was _none_ of any fault of yours, I swear. It just didn’t work.” she nodded when he muttered a weak ‘ _I know_.’

“Secondly- do you love him?”

“More than anyone else, Kimi,” he admitted. “Everyone thinks he’s so cold, but he couldn’t make me happier if he tried. I _know_ him. I _love_ him.”

“Then you should trust him to make the right choice, the good choice, when it comes to picking who’s going to rule beside him. He loves you back, so _stupidly_ much, and he’s an intelligent guy. He would know if you’d be a good consort. Trust in his judgement, and if nothing else, trust in your love. If he’s willing to marry you, he’s willing to put at least a little effort into making the situation work. That should be clear, at the very least.” she said, face incredibly serious, while her voice remained soft. Jack sighed and rested his head on her shoulder, and she turned into it, allowing his weariness to fade for a moment.

“...Shit. I’m gonna marry him, aren’t I Kimi?”

“Yeah, and you’d better make me your maid of honor at the royal wedding you piece of shit, or I’m gonna beat you up.”

“Love you too, Kimi.”

///

After a fair bit of catching up and commiserating, Jack finally called another cab, leaving Kimiko with the promise of a spot of honor at the wedding and lighter, happier heart. It took a while for the cab to get back into the city, too, so it was around half past midnight by the time he came to stand in front of his and Chase’s shared apartment door. With a deep breath, he inserted the key, turned it, and stepped into the dimly-lit front hall quietly.

All seemed normal, but when he peaked into the kitchen he spied a nearly-empty bottle of vodka on the counter next to a half-full shot.

“Shit,” he muttered, tired and concerned, but amused.

“Jack?”

Chase must have heard him, because he heard a thud like someone falling off a couch and a few heavy steps, and then there he was, in all his drunken, emotionally-exhausted glory.

Chase’s hair was a bit of a mess, and there were shallow bags under his eyes probably since he hadn’t gone to sleep yet; he was still wearing the tux pants and shirt, but the top few buttons were undone, the sleeves rolled up, and the pants wrinkled despairingly. Like he’d been rolling around on the couch since he’d gotten home, whenever that was.

Still, amber-golden eyes drank him in with surprising lucidity for someone up past his bedtime and at least mildly drunk. Chase leaned heavily against the doorway to the living room, pointedly not stepping closer to Jack.

“Hey,” he said lamely, dropping his tux jacket on the island chair.

“Hey.” Chase replied, blankly. “I... I wasn’t expecting you. To come back- so soon,” he stumbled over his words, one hand subconsciously reaching up to pat down his hair. Jack knew it was a lost cause.

“Forgive me. I’m drunk.”

“So I can see,” Jack said tentatively, taking a small step towards his boyfriend, his lover, his hopefully soon-to-be fiance. When Chase didn’t recoil, he padded slowly closer on the cold tile, having toed off his shoes by the door. He wrinkled his nose when they were less than a foot from each other, a small grin taking up on his face.

“So I can smell.” Chase huffed petulantly.

“Not that drunk.”

“Okay,” Jack replied easily, sidling up to Chase now. He reached up and began undoing the buttons to Chase’s dress shirt, untucking it from Chase’s pants. During the process, Chase had only leaned closer, whether purposefully or not, and had leaned his head on Jack’s shoulder. He stilled when he felt his boyfriend’s hands slide up his arms, his sides; he nuzzled into Jack’s neck and pressed much closer when met with no resistance.

“Jack,” he murmured, voice sounding nearly wobbly.

“ _Jack.”_

“I’m right here, you great lizard. I’m not going anywhere,” he comforted, easily shuffling them toward their bedroom now that his tall lover was clutched tight against him.

“Thought I scared you away,” Chase muttered, upset-sounding. His grip became tight and they stumbled, their sides gently hitting the wall of the hallway.

“Though you... you were gonna _leave_ ,”

“No way, Jose. I just needed to think it over, okay? I’m yours, and you’re mine, and there’s no way I’m gonna give you up. Not even over some stinkin’ kingdom.” he reassured, hands now gently cupping Chase’s face. Those piercing eyes, now softly staring, connected with his as Chase’s hands clutched at his arms.

“Mine,” he muttered, _“mine.”_

“All yours, buddy.” With that he managed to shuffle them both into the room and deposited Chase on the bed, where he lay, staring at Jack as he undressed for the night. Jack helped Chase out of his, not asking, to avoid wounding his drunken dignity more than he had already. Soon they were both naked save for their underwear, and Jack situated them both underneath the silk covers so they could get some sleep.

Chase hadn’t removed contact with him since Jack had unbuttoned his shirt in the kitchen; some part of them had been constantly touching, whether it was Chase’s hand on his arm or his foot gently gracing his leg, they’d been in constant contact, and now even moreso; Jack had opened his arms, and Chase had curled right into him, like a furnace, or a dragon curling into his beloved home. Chase was greedy like that- he could have anything he wanted, but the thing he most craved was touch, and would always, and gladly take his fill.

It took a few seconds for them to settle in, legs tangling easily, but Chase wasn’t anywhere close to sleep. Jack didn’t blame him. He simply waited, not wanted to force his prideful boyfriend into anything, instead tactfully choosing to wait until he gathered his thoughts; it didn’t take long.

“Jack,” he murmured, face buried in his pale lover’s chest. “I love you. F-fuck the kingdom. Fuck all of it-- I love you. I love you so much. I want-- you’re mine. I love you. You’re mine. I want you more than anything, more than the crown. Will you marry me?” he murmured, still a bit drunk, evidently. Jack hid his smile in Chase’s delightfully soft black hair.

“Yeah, you big lizard. I’ll marry you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Chase’s head, and then fervently returning the messy kiss Chase chose to bestow on him.

“Love you, Jack,” Chase murmured, finally settling down for the night.

“I love you too. Goodnight, Chase.”


	2. Pizza Delivery Boy & Customer AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “you’re the only delivery person who gets to my house in any semblance of the word fast which is why i keep requesting you but you don’t believe me and tease me constantly about it” au

The first time, it was a happy natural occurrence. Jack had managed to get a delivery to a fucking  _ delicious  _ looking guy who was also relatively sane and respectful, and ended up giving him a decent tip for getting there ten minutes faster than expected.

The second time was delightfully coincidental- he’d seen the address on the order slip and snatched it up before Omi or Rai could. He’d gotten there fourteen minutes early, and yeah maybe he shouldn’t have been speeding through a suburb, but the guy- Chase, his order read- had  _ almost  _ looked pleased, and had given him another bountiful tip.

The third time, not a chance.

“Delivery for 133 Long street,” Dashi called out from behind the counter. Jack’s head popped up maybe a little bit too quickly, but before he could even open his mouth to claim it, Dashi waved the slip in his face.

“This one’s specifically for you, Jack.”

“What?” he replied, intelligently. Dashi rolled his eyes.

“This guy Chase asked specifically for  _ ‘the young red-headed delivery boy’ _ . Looks like you’ve got an admirer,” Dashi grinned wolfishly. Rai whistled from the other side of the counter, but Jack could barely hear it over the sound of his heart banging against his ribs, muttering a faint  _ ‘shut up, guys’ _ before walking out to his car.

...

When he got there- 11 minutes early, plenty early- he must’ve smoothed his hair back a dozen times between the car and the door before pressing the bell. He heard a muffled  _ “coming!”  _ and stood back, waiting for the door to open.

“Ah, I’m glad to see they took my note seriously on my order,” Hot Guy said, barely expressing any emotion as usual but definitely pleased. Jack laughed nervously.

“Yeah, the guys back at the parlor ragged on me ‘cus of that.” He admitted, trading the single box for the cash in the guy’s hand- exact change and plus some, he was happy to see. Hot Guy’s eyebrows rose.

“My apologies then. You’re the only delivery boy who gets here in any semblance of the word fast.” He replied, but Jack was already shaking his head, a strand of red falling into his eyes.

“Nah, it’s alright. I can take a little teasing- and, u-uh, if you don’t mind, I’m 22. Not really a boy,” he smiled, maybe a bit weakly, but Hot Guy only stared at him consideringly.

“Indeed,” he said after a moment, bid Jack a good night, and gently shut the door. Jack inhaled roughly, heart still pumping, and made his way giddily to his car.

...

Jack continued to deliver pizzas rather quickly. Hot Guy- Chase, as he was permitted one day after a couple of months, continued to receive, tip, and occasionally make small talk with Jack. Jack still got ribbed for being requested, and rubbed his nice tips in his coworker’s faces in retaliation.

Every once in a while, Jack would gather up enough courage to gently tease- to  _ flirt _ even- with Chase every couple of deliveries.

“Still asking for me these days? Everyone knows I’m yours,” Jack would wink, palms sweaty.

“The guys all think you’re just calling to see me nowadays,” he’d hint, grinning toothily, stomach full of butterflies.

“Pizza’s always better in good company and after midnight- things not necessarily mutually exclusive,” he’d proclaim boldly, feeling his knees practically shake.

And every time, Chase would respond with a raised eyebrow and a clever quip or just plain indifference. At first it was torture, not knowing whether he’d offended the guy or been successful, but he kept getting requested, and often by name, so hopefully it didn’t bother Chase too much. Chase didn’t seem like the type to let shit that bothered him slide, he’d learned, and he’d learned a lot about the other guy.

Chase loved cats, had three of them that would sometimes answer the door with piercing eyes. He was a big-shot business guy, he’d gleaned from delivering one night to Chase holding a mobile conference in wrinkled suit pants, crisp white sleeves folded mid-arm, tie draped loose around his shoulders (and boy, had  _ that  _ been a great night- the boys had teased him endlessly about the dazed look he’d come back with). The guy was pretty no-nonsense, but with a wicked tongue and sense of humor, and he had a couple friends he’d regularly invite over- a dazzling older tanned redhead who wore black pencil skirts like it was nobody’s business, an American dude with a thick southern accent and discomforting air, an older business-type guy who wore black-and-white mobster-style suits as if it had remained in fashion past the 80’s.

After a while chatting with the guy became comfortable instead of nerve-wracking, and his and Chase’s little dance became ritual.

Of course, Jack wasn’t able to deliver Chase’s orders every time, although it was rare. One time he’d come back from a delivery and three minutes later, Kimiko had stormed through the back entrance and threw a fist-full of bills and change at Dashi.

“I don’t know how the hell you put up with that guy on Long street,” she’d fumed over an apology cannoli. “He’s hot, I’ll give him that, but he’s such a  _ douchebag! _ ”

“There you are,” Chase had said the next time he’d delivered. He’d grinned, heart fluttering.

“Here I am,” he said with a flourish, handing over the pizza for the cash. No company tonight he noted, as most of the lights behind Chase were off. “Gotta say, you stirred up a lot of trouble last order. Kimiko was pretty pissed at you.”

“Ah, the fiery young woman... I admit I may have been a little...  _ curt  _ to her, unfortunately.” He replied cryptically, setting the pizza down on the table beside the door. Jack leaned against the doorframe, holding off on counting the cash- Chase always had the correct amount ready, plus tip.

“Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t you,” Chase replied without missing a beat. Jack’s heart must’ve stuttered because he almost slipped off the door frame before Chase continued, not batting an eyelid- “I’ve become quite accustomed to your quick delivery time, and wasn’t very pleased to find hers wanting.” Jack replied jokingly  _ sure, sure,  _ but his throat had been dry the entire ride back.

...

It was a November night, the air somewhat crisp where it graced his skin above the collar of his jacket when Jack delivered yet another pizza for Chase. He’d been a bit sad that Chase hadn’t ordered pizza on Halloween- he’d’ve loved to see what Chase might dress up as. A few thoughts had flickered through his head after he’d gone home that night; maybe the Japanese warrior guy from that new video game with his one gorgeous pec out- his hair was definitely long enough for it; maybe something more generic, like a cowboy or a vampire, or even a roman emperor, gold laurel shimmering bright in his dark hair, pale toga slipping down over even paler skin--

And that’s when he’d realized that maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t delivered to Chase that night. They had boundaries, comfortable ones! Maybe not  _ satisfying  _ ones, sure, but Jack wasn’t gonna make it awkward for the man to get his damn pizza.

But besides that, he was delivering a special order that night- half garbage, half pineapple, a sure sign that the red-headed woman was over (Chase hated pineapple pizza, and Jack backed him on that).

He couldn’t bring himself to feel any certain way about her, to be honest- at first he’d been a bit jealous, but he wasn’t so certain that she and Chase were dating. Nowadays he was just respectful, and got the hell out of there whenever she was around. It worked well for everybody, as far as Jack knew.

Which was why Jack was an idiot, apparently.

He rang the doorbell (fifteen minutes early, so at the expected time) and heard thumps, like feet landing heavily, and a few moments later the red-headed woman opened the door, clearly a bit tipsy if the angle she was leaning in was any indication. He sighed minutely and made sure he was smiling.

“Heya! Fancy seeing you here again. I’ve got your ord- _ oh! _ ” he yelped as she grabbed his shoulder and yanked him inside.

“Bless the gods you’re here,” she huffed, alcohol a bit rank on her breath. She grabbed the pizza out of his hands and shoved him toward the wide doorway, presumably the kitchen. “He’s been barking all afternoon about getting fuckin’ pizza from you.”

Jack stumbled forward, turning back to try and reason with the woman. “Uh, please, I’m not supposed to- my car’s still running-” he stuttered before bumping into something hard. He turned, gulping, to see Chase standing there, a fair bit disheveled with his top buttons undone and hair messy, like someone had run their hands through it or he’d just had-

“Chase!” he yelped, grinning nervously. “Sorry I’m in here man, your friend-” he glanced over his shoulder to see that she’d apparently gone- “-uh, she kinda pulled me inside. Don’t worry, I’ll be outta here soon enough--” he babbled, noticing the bottle and a half of red on the counter.

A hand on his shoulder cut him short abruptly: he stared into Chase’s eyes, slightly watery, his expression serious.

“No.”

“No?” Jack parroted, mind working at half capacity. Chase’s other hand rose to mimic its opposite: the heady smell of expensive cologne and alcohol mingled in Jack’s nose.

“Stay,” Chase muttered absently, hand trailing down Jack’s arm to his hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His eyes followed the motion while Jack’s mind went completely blank.

“Chase,” he said gently, putting his hand on his customer’s chest, _to push him away_ his mind whispered, while his heartbeat spoke of other thoughts. He steeled himself and continued, speaking firmly.

“Chase, you’re drunk.” The target of his words didn’t respond, save the slight scrunching of his nose.

“Chase-” he tried to continue, but was cut off when he was roughly pulled to the other’s chest.

“Chase!”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, nearly a hiss, making Jack freeze in place.

“You have to know- you  _ must  _ know, you  _ tease  _ me so,” he continued, surprisingly eloquent for how deep in the cups he was. His arm shifted, scooping underneath Jack’s to reach for the back of his neck, which he stroked distractedly with his thumb. The other hand rubbed something between reverently and insistently at his hip, fingers skirting between his jacket and shirt, and the band of his boxers to grace his bare hip.

No matter how much he tried to organize his thoughts, Jack couldn’t seem to make himself move, even leaning deeper into Chase’s embrace, which seemed to please the man greatly.

“ _ Delicious  _ boy, declaring you’re mine, you  _ are _ \- and  _ propositioning me _ so subtly,” apparently Chase had a possessive streak a mile wide- something else to learn about him. As he leaned forward, he passed up Jack’s face ( _ augh,  _ frustration and relief warring inside of him-) to mouth at the junction of his shoulder and neck (and  _ oh,  _ this was so much,  _ infinitely  _ worse-). 

As Jack’s knees finally began to cave in, Chase mumbled against his skin, “darling boy, so beautiful, I should have done this sooner-”

Which finally brought Jack’s racing heart to a sudden, unfortunate halt.

This wasn’t Chase, this was an affectionate drunk- Chase hadn’t done this sooner because he probably hadn’t  _ wanted  _ it any sooner than his first two glasses of wine.

With disappointment so thick it clogged his throat, Jack ducked away from Chase’s vine like arms and wandering mouth, to the clear surprise of the other man.

“Jack?”

“I’ve gotta go- my car is still running, I’m on the clock-” he hurriedly explained, fixing his rumpled state, violently yanking his jacket down.

“Jack-”

“Don’t worry about the pizza, this one’s on the house,” he replied, valiantly ignoring his favorite customer. He made it as far as the door before strong,  _ strong  _ hands grasped his waist. He stumbled to a stop and Chase took advantage of it, wrapping thick arms around Jack’s midsection. It was at least a little bit awkward, Chase being a good eight inches taller than Jack, with a painfully obvious erection pressing into his back to boot. He swallowed thickly, hands already on Chase’s arms before the man behind him spoke up.

“I’m sorry... my apologies if my a-advances,” he hiccuped, “were unwelcome. I...” he trailed off, allowing Jack to sigh. He turned around gracelessly in Chase’s arms, careful to put his hand on Chase’s chest to distance them.

“It’s not that- really,  _ really  _ not that. I like you Chase, I do, like  _ too  _ much, but you’re pretty drunk, and I don’t want you to face the consequences of your actions when you  _ are  _ sober... I, I couldn’t deal with this,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “if you didn’t mean it.”

“I  _ do  _ mean it, every word,” Chase replied defensively, eyes and expression ablaze with the intent to make him realize without words. “I never say anything I don’t mean.” 

Jack only sighed.

“I’m sure. But until you’re sober, I ain’t gonna act on that. Trust me, if you were sober, we’d be halfway to your room right now- but I can’t.” he sighed once more, and before Chase had the time to react, pushed out of the circle of his arms- before he got an idea.

“Here,” he said, and took a pen out of his jacket pocket- “If you really mean what you said tonight, then take this-” and wrote his number clearly on Chase’s arm, with  _ -Jack  _ signed roughly underneath, “-and call me tomorrow, in a few days, whatever. For now..” he trailed, smile half-cocked earnestly. “Enjoy the pizza.”

And before he lost his courage, pressed a quick kiss to Chase’s cheek. He stepped out quickly after that, resisting the urge to turn back the entire drive home.

...

The days following were nerve-wracking, to say the least.

Every call had Jack jumpy, and every delivery disappointed. There were some decent tippers and attractive customers, for sure, even one pretty cute down-home country type that smiled shyly at him from beneath blond bangs- but none of them were  _ Chase _ .

He received no texts or calls, and no special deliveries to 133 Long street for anyone for weeks. Jack tried not to seem disappointed, but even Raimundo had taken to tiptoeing around the subject.

And then, it happened.

Dashi got a sort of funny look on his face as he answered the phone one night around four forty-five; a kind of mix between aggravated and constipated, not that it was an unusual look for him when dealing with a particularly annoying caller. After a few moments though it cleared, and Dashi finished up the order in low murmurs. Jack wasn’t particularly paying attention; it was slow for a Thursday night because of the holidays and the shitty weather, and the few staff members present were gathered around the shitty old tv in the dining room, watching the latest episode of some crappy Spanish drama on that night. A few minutes later Dashi called for him and he groaned, standing and stretching, leaving the rest of his coworkers behind.

“What’s up, bossman?” he asked, reaching for the bag and the two soda bottles on the counter. He peered at each curiously before turning his gaze to Dashi.

“Where’s the order slip?”

Dashi gave him a cryptic look.

“It’s your boy,” he said, sounding an even mix of displeased and curious. He flushed, embarrassment flourishing. While they weren’t all super close friends, the entire crew seemed to care about Jack’s apparent “thing” with the douchebag on 133 Long, even more so after he’d come back somewhat pleased and then turned downtrodden as the weeks passed. Their concern was touching, really, in a lame sort of way, but Jack honestly had just wanted to forget about it.

Until now, he guessed.

He muttered a goodbye and grabbed the order, pointedly ignoring Dashi’s yelled goodbye and promise of misfortune “to the rotten bastard if he’s an asshole to you,” and simply jumped in his beat-up Subaru, careful of the lightly falling snow.

...

Try as he might, he still ended up at Chase’s house about fifteen minutes early. There was no traffic because of the weather, everyone choosing to stay indoors and cook their own meals: he couldn’t help but wonder why Chase had ordered such sparse pickings so early- only garlic knots, a caesar salad and two liters of soda to his order. It was completely different from the usual, and it unsettled Jack just enough that he hesitated before he pressed that familiar doorbell.

Chase must’ve been right near the door because he answered so quickly he startled Jack, who wasn’t honestly prepared to see him anyway, and they ended up standing in awkward silence for a beat too long.

“Um, here’s your order-”

“Jack, I’m sorry I-”

They started at the same time, and halted in the same manner. Chase’s lips pursed and moved a half-step back.

“Maybe you should come inside?” Jack grimaced.

“Not sure that’s the best idea,” he admitted honestly, and Chase’s eyes flickered downward. They closed with a sigh, and reopened looking directly at Jack, startlingly amber-like in color and oh so hard to read.

“Then let me-” he said, and stepped out onto the little porch, forcing Jack to shuffle back despite his refuting.

“Dude, you’re only wearing socks-”

“I hate pizza.”

Now  _ that  _ brought Jack up short.

“What?”

“I hate pizza. I ordered pizza the first few times because I was tired coming home from work and hadn’t wanted to make anything. And then I started ordering it because of you,” Chase’s eyes bore deeply into Jack’s, expression nigh unreadable if Jack didn’t know better; Chase’s whole form was tense, lips pursed in displeasure at his own apparent weakness, or maybe it was at how uncharacteristically open he was being. Jack was honestly too surprised to tell.

“I didn’t hate it so much then, and you were such a witty brat, and I appreciated it. Dammit, I appreciated that you seemed to be legitimately interested in conversing with me, unlike so many of my coworkers. I acknowledged the fact that you were just doing your job, and proceeded to keep buying your attention anyway, at least twice every month for this last  _ damnable _ half a year. You began to grow on me, and after a while, you seemed legitimately interested. I invited Wuya and other coworkers over when I rarely ever have before so that you perhaps wouldn’t think that I’m a... creepy, lonely thirty-something,” Chase sighed deeply, leaning back against the door, glaring harshly at the tiny icicles forming on his gutter.

“And then I managed to get myself shitfaced and acted so uncouthly that night a few weeks ago. I ended up in the shower that night and half washed away your number, and by the time I woke up I only partially remembered why it had been there in the first place. So, this is a formal apology... both for attempting to force myself upon you, and then actively avoiding you in the weeks following,” Chase finished quietly, eyes slowly migrating back to Jack’s face.

Blown away, Jack blinked rapidly for a long moment, turned and set Chase’s order on the flat part of his rail, and turned back while taking his gloves off.

He first punched Chase weakly on the arm; Chase barely reacted until Jack grasped gently at Chase’s face, murmuring “you’re a fucking dumbass,” while pulling him down to kiss Jack.

Chase held himself in place, suspended until Jack’s hands moved to his chest and arms invitingly, and they slowly wrapped around each other, snow falling gently in late afternoon light that breached the clouds. They parted only momentarily, once, twice, to shift, to catch their breaths; Chase pulled Jack closer and they wobbled in place, parting to let Jack laugh softly, giddily while Chase watched, enraptured.

Eventually Chase began to break out in goosebumps and shivers, his thin sweatshirt simply not cutting it for the freezing weather with his bare feet; Jack smiled, disentangled from Chase, and retrieved his now cold order of food.

“Maybe we should go inside,” he offered, grinning, and Chase smirked delightfully.

“Let’s,” and so they did.


	3. Baristas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory coffee shop au.  
> 3) “We’re both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU but also thanks”  
> ...except I completely twisted the prompt LOL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALSO, since my laptop is straight up murdered, I had to finish this on an old iPhone. So. Beware spelling errors just in case lololol.

  * “We’re both baristas and sometimes I have trouble reaching for things and I show up to work one day to find a personalized stool with hearts and my name on it i hATE YOU but also thanks” (altered)



* * *

 

“Goddamit Kimi, I _told_ you, there’s nothing romantic about being a barista,” Jack complained, waving his ice cream spoon in her unimpressed expression. “It’s a rush- dozens upon dozens of poncy wannabe-authors and single white mothers with their teenage daughters, all ordering ridiculously overly complicated orders. Vente vegan soy nutmeg mocha latte my ass,” he muttered, stabbing viciously into his quart of mint chocolate chip.

“I wasn’t talking about the _customers_ you dunce, I was talking about your coworkers,” she said, putting her own quart- strawberry and banana organic stuff- down in favor of the remote. Her statement of “You know _exactly_ who I’m talking about, Jack,” seemed louder and more pointed as she reduced the noise from the tv bouncing around in his tiny apartment. He only shuffled beneath his blanket further.

“Give it a rest.”

“Absolutely not! You’ve been drooling over Chase for too long- just ask him out for fuck’s sake!” Jack sneered into his ice cream.

“Yeah? I’ll ask him out when you ask out Clay’s sister.” as soon as he said it, he felt more than a hint of regret.

“...That was a low blow, Jack Spicer,” Kimiko narrowed her eyes at him, arms already crossed. He groaned, capping his ice cream.

“I know, I’m sorry. It just feels hopeless.” he mumbled. Then again, his horrendously gigantic crush on Chase wasn’t a completely lost cause- he at least knew for a fact that Chase was bi. Kimiko’s equally hopeless infatuation with their resident American’s sister was, unfortunately for Kimiko, just that- hopeless. She hadn’t responded to any of Kimiko’s advances, at least not favorably. It was still a bit of a sore spot.

Kimiko gave a deep sigh and stood, walking to his tiny pantry, where she retrieved his last bottle of decent wine and two mismatched glasses.

“Here,” she said as she poured, “we _will_ have a conversation about this- another time. Although tonight was supposed to be reserved for working this out,” she gave him a withering glare before handing him his glass and gently bumping them, a ringing noise echoing momentarily.

“To assholes- cute, wonderful assholes.”

...

The next morning he got up at an ungodly hour, cleaned himself up and drove to work, where he and Rai, their server greeted him with an equally drowsy wave, and Dashi and Omi, their chef and apprentice respectively greeted him with matching boisterously loud ‘Hello-s!’

From there he strapped on his apron, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

They always got hit with what Jack called their Freakishly Early Morning wave, made of mostly the commuters and working class heading out early around six to seven-thirty in the morning. Then they got hit with the Normal Morning wave, which usually lasted from eight to nine-thirty-ish. From then on they had normal food hours until they closed at three in the afternoon. Anyone after the two morning rushes tended to be snobs, women wearing those fuckin North Face jackets and men with supremely overly-tailored tweed vest-jacket combos who were either aspiring writers or just plain entitled. At least in Jack’s humble opinion.

But that wasn’t the problem with his job- truthfully he loved it, really did. Super kind customers made up for the aggravating ones, the shop had a super chill atmosphere and paid well enough that he didn’t have to take on a second job for one of the first times in his life- not to mention the abundant free time he got in the afternoons after work to play video games and generally dick around.

No, the only real problem was with the staff. One member of the staff.

One really, unfairly, stupidly attractive and out-of-his-league member of the staff. Who was also sometimes incredibly confusing. And hard to read. But still beautiful.

Jack’s dumb feelings aside, Chase Young was honest-to-god perfect. He’d joined the shop just after its opening seven years ago and had been there ever since. He could make drinks, charm the pants off customers, and in a pinch he was even a decent chef. Standing at an imposing six-foot-three, he was _also_ totally jacked, had a flawless complexion, long, perfect black hair and piercing amber-brown eyes, and just so happened to tick every box on Jack’s list.

It wasn’t a long list either- Jack’s standards were, in retrospect, ashamedly low- but Chase even checked off every box on his Fantasy Man list, a mental note he usually dared not touch for fear of incredible disappointment.

Jack was more than a little bit in lust with the man at first meeting, and as he steadily proved himself completely confident and utterly capable, Jack fell more and more onto the permanently-interested side of the spectrum.

Which sucked. Not because he didn’t seem interested in Jack- which he wasn’t anyway- but because he didn’t seem to be interested in _anybody_. If Jack hadn’t seen him grin every once in a while he’d’ve thought the dude was made of ice.

Not once in the four years he’d been working at Dashi’s little shop of happy horrors had Jack known Chase to date anyone. Less than that, he’d never even reciprocated any interest a customer or other coworker had shown him, and trust in Jack, there had been _plenty_ of interest. Single moms, seasonal hires, the occasional closeted kid, and even ones that weren’t so closeted. Chase remained staunchly, aggravatingly professional in every situation, even when that one pushy guy had purposely spilled tea all over Chase’s jeans and then propositioned him.

Needless to say, _that_ hadn’t ended so well.

The only way Jack had even found out Chase was bi was at the annual Winter’s Holiday celebration. Being from all walks of life, no two members of the staff seemed to share a tradition, so they had merged them all into one big bash they held before the end of the year. The past year, Jack had turned 21, finally, and so there was more than a little consumption going on- Chase included. Even so, he’d let very little information slip out, that tasty tidbit being one of them. Jack’s suddenly unrequited and manageable crush had become much more belligerent after that, resulting in a lot of sleepless nights and awkward mornings.

And, well, awkward shifts too.

Jack worked steadily behind the counter for a few minutes, prepping cups for the regular orders he knew they’d get when he heard the front door bell chime. It didn’t take a genius to know who’d entered, especially not when Omi was so loud.

“Chase! You are late again, sir!” he shouted.

“I’m no more than thirty-two seconds early, Omi, even earlier than yesterday, as you’ll kindly remember.” He replied as he breezed past the counter and into the staff room. Omi huffed from the kitchen and Jack snickered to himself, finishing setting up.

When the time came, they flipped the sign, and greeted the rush of incoming customers with gusto.

Jack had almost made it out of the rush unscathed when it happened- one of his regulars ordered the same drink as always, but the bag of coffee beans was empty, and he was forced to try and jump for it.

This was his least favorite part of the store, simply because it had been built with Dashi’s monstrous six feet in mind and not Jack’s five-foot-nine stature. The shelf he often needed to get to was just _this much_ too high for him.

Jack also, unfortunately, had a proud streak a mile wide, so instead of just asking Chase or Rai or whoever was out on the floor to help him, he had to go through this undignified little dance multiple times a month. It wouldn’t be so bad, except occasionally-

“Here,” he heard the voice behind him too late, and _oh_ , he was fucked.

Chase pressed up behind him and reached, easily grabbing the correct bag of beans, but also turning Jack’s mind to mush. His nerves went haywire as Chase pressed his _entire freaking body_ up against Jack’s back; he could feel his rock-hard chest, the broad expanse of his shoulders totally encompassing Jack’s; the belt buckle pressing against his mid-back--

“This is the right one?” Chase moved away but curved his arm around Jack to show him the bag he’d grabbed. Jack shook himself out of his stupor and hurriedly accepted it, mumbling his thanks as he went to make his regular’s order, ignoring Chase’s piercing gaze.

When he returned to the counter, Clay was waiting there for him, only one blue eye visibly judging him from beneath the wave of sandy-blond bangs.

“That guy botherin’ you, Jack? You seem mighty uncomfortable,” Clay asked sincerely. Jack coughed in surprise, eyes flitting worriedly to Chase to make sure he hadn’t been in hearing range of that little statement. He handed the plain black coffee over with a muttered ‘not in the way you think’. It took Clay a second but his face did light up with a delighted amusement.

“Ah, gotcha- little bit ‘o buckin’ goin’ on at the rodeo tonight I’ma guessin,” he winked and Jack really _did_ choke this time, had to lean on the counter to catch his breath while Clay laughed.

“You okay there Jack? You look like a friggin’ tomato,” Rai asked, one eyebrow raised from where he was cleaning tables. Jack nodded and accepted the glass of water Chase handed to him.

“I’m good, ignore me, it’s just _this one_ ,” and here he _whapped_ Clay on the arm to no effect, “being a shithead.”

“Aw, y’know y’ love me, Jack. You always know what drink I want.” Clay drawled a bit, eyes twinkling with mirth. Jack rolled his own.

“You order the same plain bullshit every time.”

“You remembered! Aw, honeydew-”

“Get fucked, Bailey.”

“You offerin’, sunshine?”

“Jack.”

Chase’s deep, cold voice cut through the unknowing banter with startling severity. Jack turned and gave Chase a questioning look and received a blank slate in response.

“Could you clean the foam nozzle? I need to grab some things from the back,” he replied, but Jack shrugged.

“Sure I guess.” He turned to Clay afterward and gave the man a fist-bump. “Alrighty, gotta get back to work, see you later?” he asked. Clay tipped his hat with a smile.

“Sure thing, partner. Say hi to Kimi for me!” he said and was on his merry way.

Jack grinned a bit to himself. Clay was a nut- but a good kind of nut. He was friends with Kimiko, so he couldn’t be too bad. Rai too, Jack remembered, as the man himself waved in Jack’s face patronisingly.

“Wakeup, loverboy! We got people,” Rai jerked his thumb toward the open door. Jack rolled his eyes and turned to clean the foam nozzle, but stopped short when he realized a six-foot wall was in his way.

“Uh, Chase, ‘scuse me?” It took a second to register it seemed, because Chase was still standing in the same spot he’d been in the past few minutes with a blank look on his face. Without a word he stepped aside and Jack moved forward, but for the rest of his shift, it felt like there was tension in the air. Even Rai stepped carefully.

Nevertheless, Jack went home soon after that, and shook off the feeling by the time he returned the next day.

...

Clay came into the store every other day, usually in the early morning rush with the rest of the early-risers, but every once in awhile he had a day off and would come in later than usual, which he did about a week later. Being a carpenter, Jack wasn’t surprised to see the big guy carrying something bulky in his arms late one day, but he _was_ surprised when he set it down on the counter in front of Jack, who only raised his eyebrows in response.

“You realize this isn’t a furniture store,” Jack stated, not sure whether to be amused or confused. Clay only huffed a laugh and pushed it toward him.

“Nah it ain’t, that’s why I figure ya might need a little help in th’ vertical sense.” he concluded, patting the little stool with one of his rough hands.

Curiosity peaked, Jack stepped forward and ran his hands over the surface of the stool. It was really nicely made, actually- let it be known that Clay Bailey did nothing half-assedly, and it showed. But there, too, on the top-

“Oh, you motherfucker,” Jack hissed as Clay broke into peals of laughter. On the top in fancy wood-burned script were the words _“Property of a Spicey Boy”._ Jack threw an empty cardboard cup at his laughing friend.

“I’m gonna kill Kimiko. I swear to god, if she shares that story _one more time-”_ he growled in frustration. Clay giggled to himself before he waved Jack off.

“She don’ mean no harm there, partner. Jus’ means she cares,” he grinned. “C’mon, try it out! I can’t be here all day!”

Grumbling, Jack pulled the stool off the counter and set it by the counter, hopping on top with a little flourish. He delighted in realizing he could, in fact, reach the top cabinets now, but he wasn’t gonna let that show, not at all.

“Could be better,” Jack sniffed, retrieving a bag of Clay’s favorite blend from the shelf next to the cabinets. “Coulda had glitter and spikes all over it.” Clay only grinned in response.

“Next time you’ll just have to tell me whatcha want. I ain’t so creative, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll just have to show you,” Jack grinned.

“Jack!”

Startling, Jack turned to Chase, who was standing in the door to the stockroom. He looked less than happy, although it might’ve been hard to tell- his expression was rather stony all the time.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to help me clean the back room for a moment.”

“Uh, yeah, just a sec,” he replied, hurriedly making a cup of coffee and scooting it towards Clay, who was looking very thoughtful for some reason.

“Here, this one’s on the house today, Bailey. Thanks for the stool.” Jack smiled, and received one in return.

“No problem there, Spicer,” he said before leaning in secretively, “an’ have fun calmin’ yer boyfrien’ down,” he whispered with an evil grin. Jack spluttered and shooed him, laughing, to the door. By the time he turned to help Chase he could feel that his face was flaming hot, pale skin turning pinker and pinker, which only seemed to agitate Chase more, for whatever reason. Goings-ons in the shop were even tenser that day by the time Jack left, and even the next day things were a bit weird, but he brushed it off as he continued to work.

...

Clay didn’t come in for the next few days, which wasn’t unusual, but Jack did end up seeing him when he went out with Kimiko and her crew for drinks later that week.

It was a rare affair to have all of them free on one night, so they celebrated aptly; Rai and Omi slammed shots together, Clay and his sister attempting to drink each other under the table while Jack and Kimiko cheered them on. Kimiko obviously took Jessie’s side while Jack was left to slap Clay’s back so he wouldn’t choke. The boy’s team lost, Jessie beaming with pride, Kimiko giggling in an obvious way and hanging off her arm. Jack couldn’t help but feel worried for her, even in his drunken stupor, but he tried to keep it to himself. He was an intelligent enough drunk to realize his mouth might be a bit bigger in his inebriated state than it was normally.

They ended up drinking until the wee hours of the morning and by the time they decided to leave, Jack was struck with a minor dilemma. He’d gotten a ride from Kimiko, who lived halfway across town from him and was getting a taxi besides. None of her other squad members lived near him, and he certainly didn't want to spend the cash on a taxi. He wasn't even sure he had enough on him at this point, either. He voiced these concerns and was met with mostly blank stares.

“I r-reckon y’ can spend th’ night at my house,” Clay said and hiccuped. His southern drawl had gotten thicker the further he’d delved into his cups and it took a second for Jack to even comprehend him.

“You sure?”

“Why th’ hell not?”

And so he did, both of them stumbling drunkenly into a second cab behind Kimiko, Rai and Omi, and heading out. During the drive Clay accidentally pinched Jack, who did it purposefully in revenge, end each ended up stinging viciously in odd places and elbowing each other like giant children until they reached Clay’s ranch-style house.

They only ended up staying awake long enough for Clay to show Jack the spare bed and for him to collapse on it, Clay laughing drunkenly as he wrapped Jack up like a burrito before meandering off to his own bedroom, giggling all the way.

That’s where Jack’s memories faded, but when he woke up he was covered in four more blankets, sweating enough to give someone else a shower, and... his face stung?

“Wakey wakey spicy boy,” Clay sing-songed, voice hoarse. A giant, meaty blocked the minimal sunlight breaking through the blankets and poked his cheek. He swatted at it irritably, but Chase only laughed and walked out of the room.

He eventually made his way to the kitchen, where Clay made his fair share of toaster-waffles and slid some onto a plate for Jack, who only groaned in response, still wrapped in the original blanket.

“What time is it?” he gurgled, muffled in his fluffy prison.

“Uh, nine-ish?” Clay replied, pushing his mussy hair out of the way to look at the clock on the microwave. “Actually, nine fifty-three.”

“Shit!” Jack hissed, head popping out from his blanket. Clay turned to give him a one-eyed stare.

“I’m supposed to go in at ten thirty! My car’s still at the bar!” He yelped, struggled out of the blanket and rushed toward the guest bedroom to grab his socks and shoes.

“Woah woah woah there partner, give it a rest! I’ll drive you to work,” Clay called from the kitchen, “I ain’t got nothin’ to do today ‘sides sit and un-booze m’self. Might as well give you a ride.”

“That’s nice and all, but I’m _filthy_ ,” Jack groaned, popping out of the doorway to show his now alcohol-stained tanktop, tugging at it forlornly. “And my house is like, forty minutes away.”

He looked up just in time to feel rising trepidation as Clay’s grin widened evilly.

...

“I hate you,” Jack muttered as he walks through the door of the cafe at ten thirty-one. Clay only snickered as Jack made his way behind the counter to shed his jacket and grab his apron, but not fast enough.

“Woah Jack, changing it up today I see! That’s a lot more color than you usually wear!” Dashi exclaimed laughingly as he placed a tray of croissants in the counter, watching as Jack tugs the bright red plaid shirt down. It’s waaay too big for him- there’s enough space in the armpits to hide four donuts, easily. But it’s better than nothing. At least, that’s what he tells himself when Rai wolf-whistles at him when he turned around.

“You look like a seventh-grade chick who can’t decide if they wanna be edgy or preppy,” he snickered as he glided past with two trays full of food. The only reason Jack doesn’t trip him is because he _really_ likes this job.

But he’s right- he’s wearing his disgustingly tight black jeans from the night before, his bracelets, and Clay’s stupid shirt. The sleeves are rolled up all the way to his biceps and the shirt is tugged up, tied with a hair tie and tucked under itself in the back, the way he’d seen Ashley do it when she was in middle school to make her shirts fit tighter. He’d failed to remember that doing that _also_ made it ride up like a motherfucker, so now there’s a solid inch and a half of pale skin on display, and he has to tug it down regularly so it won’t get worse.

It’s not so bad with his apron, so long as he doesn’t turn around, or bend over, or lift his arms above his head, or...

“And you look like a jock who peaked in the seventh grade,” Jack quipped back, scowling as he moved behind the counter and began to take orders, scooting Dashi out of the way. Clay and Rai laugh as Clay hopped on the end of the line, and Jack’s day began. It took a little while but he does eventually serve Clay, placed an already-prepped black coffee in a medium cup with a bacon-egg and cheese bagel beside it in front of the wannabe cowboy. Jack stopped him before he could insert his card into the reader.

“Nah, this one’s on me, big guy. I owe you one. And yes, I’m sure, so shut your piehole and take that food to the table by the window.” Jack continued without pause, eyes on the register until finished. He glanced at Clay, who simply leaned forward on his elbows, smiling softly.

“That’s mighty kind, Jack.”

The barista only blushed and muttered a ‘whatever,’.

“I’m gonna want this back, y’know,” he continued amusedly, fingers reached out and tugging on the high bottom of the plaid shirt.

“Don’t worry _partner,_ I don’t do cowboy-plaid anyway. Too bright. Not enough black lines. Or spikes,” he replied, and Clay laughed as he walked away with his breakfast.

Jack finished the orders for the last person in line and turned around, only to freeze at the sight of who was standing in the doorway to the breakroom.

Chase stared at him severely, eyes locked on Jack. If Jack knew Chase at all, he’d say that he looked some sort of unhappy, but he couldn’t honestly tell anything beside that. And there was no reason for him to freeze when he saw Chase like he was some kid who got caught sneaking out. He was a grown man, dammit, and he wanted Chase of all people to know that. So he tugged his shirt down beneath his apron and cocked a nervous smile.

“Morning, Chase,” he greeted cheerily and waited for him to react. When he didn’t, Jack’s grin faltered.

“Ah... Chase?” Jack angled his head, trying to get the other’s attention.

Chase inhaled deeply through his nose, startling Jack.

“I...” he trailed for a moment, then two.

“Congratulations,” was all he offered then, and retreated back into the break room.

“I- what?” Jack spluttered, baffled. When Chase didn’t emerge from the break room after ten minutes, Jack moved toward it, only to be cursed by the door scraping open. With a long look, Jack went back to work, and only saw slivers of Chase for the rest of the day.

...

Three days later, he’d had enough.

He and Chase were closing the store together. Rai had long since gone home, Dashi and Omi were busy baking up a storm in preparation for the morning rush, and Chase. Wasn’t. Talking to him. Had barely talked to him in the last three fucking days, and it _sucked._

He truly didn’t know what the hell he’d done, but Chase was _not_ a fan of him right now. When they worked together, Chase would stay at the opposite end of the counter. When Jack was on the floor, Chase was in the kitchen. When they had to operate the two registers at the same time, Chase interacted with him as little as possible.

Jack was upset, to say the least.

If he’d done something wrong, something to upset the guy or _whatever-_ so be it. But out of everyone, he’d expected Chase to handle an insult with cold hard pride and honesty, not... whatever _this_ was. He was practically sulking! It was bullshit. It was annoying. It wasn’t like Chase, not at all.

And it made Jack feel like shit- instead of getting whatever the hell it was out of the way and talking to one of his favorite people, he got the silent treatment and he didn’t even know why. He’d waited three days for Chase to say something, and he hadn’t.

So he turned to him.

“Hey, Chase,” he said.

Chase grunted in response.

“Why are you mad at me?”

Chase stopped in place, money from the register still grasped in his hands.

“Excuse me?”

Finally, he turned to look at Jack for real, and Jack had to hide his shaking hands by pressing them on the counter.

“Why are you mad at me,” he restated. “D-dude, you haven’t talked to me for three whole days. If- if I did something wrong-”

“No,” Chase interrupted, looking somewhat horrified. “Oh, for- I’m not mad at you, Jack. I’m not,” he growled in response to Jack’s disbelieving expression.

“Then what is it? Chase, we’ve been friends for literal years. You’re my boss, but you can talk to me, you know that.” Not that he’d ever taken Jack up on that offer before, but still.

He must’ve said the wrong thing too, because Chase became more closed off the more Jack talked. Goddamit.

“I promise, it’s nothing you’ve done wrong,” he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. Now that he got a good look at him, Chase looked pretty tired- the barest hint of bags under his eyes, his skin was a bit paler than usual. Even his normally well-kept locks of dark silk were pulled into a messy just-woke-up bun. Not that he didn’t cut a dashing figure, but it was a far cry from his usual standards. Jack put a tentative hand on Chase’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay though? Do you wanna hang out or something? There’s a great bar Kimi, Omi, Rai and Clay showed me-” he was cut off by Chase quickly tugging away to put a sack of coffee beans under the counter.

“Is that his name? Clay?” he continued without pause, sounding agitated.

Uh?

“Uh, yeah, fluffy blond dude? My regular?” When Chase only grunted in reply, Jack shook his head, baffled.

“Dude, what does Clay have to do with your cruddy mood?” he asked defensively. It wasn’t that he and Clay were great friends, per say, but he’d been totally cool to Jack. Maybe he’d been a dick to Chase at some point? But even still, Chase wasn’t one to let shitty customers bother him-

Chase stood when he finished grappling the giant bag into place and put his hands on his hips, staring agitatedly at the tartan sack.

“I’m sorry,” he replied, quietly. It took a moment, but Chase sighed raggedly and scratched at his forehead. “For... causing you distress. That was certainly not my intention. I...” he turned to Jack and met his eyes head-on, making Jack’s breath catch.

“I didn’t want to overstep my bounds, but I can see I caused some friction even still. Clearly I couldn't keep my displeasure hidden,” he seemed to be taking to himself more than Jack now, his gaze roaming over Jack.

“Chase,” he said and stepped closer, “just spit it _out_ already.”

“I hate your boyfriend,” Chase blurted, looking frustrated.

“I,” Jack started, then stopped. “Wow. What?”

“I... Severely dislike him,” Chase continued, oblivious to Jack’s own confusion, “which is embarrassing and somewhat... Frustrating, as he has proven himself to be completely capable of taking  care of you and making you happy,” and then he was off.

“You two talk frequently and it doesn't distract you from work. When he sees you are in need of something, he does not hesitate to purchase or even _create_ it for you,” Chase threw a nasty glare at the stool behind him, tucked out of sight. “He is decently attractive and takes care of you and I cannot find a _single_ fault in him, and it’s so _wildly aggravating-”_ Chase was on a tirade, but Jack’s mind was too busy whirring on overtime, putting the pieces, the fucking _obvious_ pieces together.

“W-wait,” Jack interrupted, “are you... Jealous? Of _Clay_?” He waited in silence. “Seriously?”

“I didn't truly want to have to admit it, Jack,” Chase retorted icily, stance totally tense.

“Oh my god,” Jack said, “oh my fucking God. I’m texting Kimiko in, like, forty minutes, Chase- Chase, fucking look at me,” Jack said as his opponent began to turn away from him. He grabbed at Chase’s face, squishing his cheeks a bit, which he could see didn't earn him any favors.

“Dear fucking- Chase, I’m not dating Clay,” he said slowly.

He was met with a series of blinks. One, two.

“...Ah,” Chase replied, face still squished, blinking owlishly. “I may have.... Miscalculated.”

“Yeah, by a bit,” Jack nearly dead panned, but he felt far too giddy. “S-so correct me before I make just as big of a mistake- you- you like me? Like, wanna date me like me?” He rushed, and when Chase shook his head in the affirmative, released a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

“Dude,” he breathed, “Chase. We _gotta_ work on this whole communication thing later,” he said, and kissed him.

He very quickly found himself pressed against the pastry counter, fingers tangled in his hair, arm tightening around his waist, laughing breathlessly as Chase nudged the footstool out of his way with a growl, being kissed within an inch of his life. They traded kisses even while Jack _knew_ he was getting leftover flour and powdered sugar all over his black jeans, but was just too giddy to care.

“We’re talking this through later,” he grinned as Chase pressed kisses to his cheek, his neck.

“Mhm,”

“Like, seriously. I’ve liked you for _years_ and you didn't even notice,”

“Wha-”

“-and I cannot _believe_ you thought I was dating _Clay_ -”

“Jack-”

“My god, you're possessive as _fuck_ too. We're gonna have to negotiate some stuff-”

“Jack,” Chase huffed, “Up until ninety seconds ago, I didn’t think I'd be able to _talk_ with you without something going horribly wrong, because I thought you were dating your customer and I couldn't professionally handle breaching the subject without it ending _horrendously. Shut up and let me kiss you.”_

“... Gotcha.”

They didn't move until Dashi and Omi walked into the front half of the shop, dropping the fresh sheets of cookies to cover their eyes while groaning (Omi) and laughing (Dashi).


	4. Waking up after a Coma/Amnesia AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4) "I just woke up from a 6 month coma and I don’t remember anything about the past 5 years but that’s kind of okay because as a trade-off this gorgeous stranger sitting at my bedside is saying he’s my husband"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this well over a year ago and just. never posted it lolol. Enjoy while I work on the next chapter!!

  * I just woke up from a 6 month coma and I don’t remember anything about the past 5 years but that’s kind of okay because as a trade-off this gorgeous stranger sitting at my bedside is saying he’s my husband



* * *

 

With an overwhelming sense of dizziness and disgruntled effort, he opened his eyes, and for an unfortunately long amount of time, it burned like a sonofabitch. He quickly snap them shut again and groaned.

“...ck... ca.... ear me? Can you hear me, Jack? If you can, tap your finger three times.”

Once he realized what he’d just heard were coherent words that he understood, he tapped his pointer finger thrice on the mattress with no little effort, much to his alarm. He tried to speak, but all that came out were painful rasping noises.

“It’s alright, Jack, you’re going to be alright. You haven’t used your vocal chords for a while so it’s going to be a bit difficult to speak right now, so try to refrain until we can get you into therapy. Just listen to me closely, we’re going to put an iv drip in your arm and it’s going to pinch, so please try not to move-” At this Jack forced his eyes open slowly, allowing them to adjust to the light. The bright lights from the pale ceiling didn’t really help his case, but he persevered, which only led to more confusion. He made a confused, disgruntled noise and the doctor put something cold to his arm that made him jump, but she showed him it was only a disinfectant wipe, since he was finding it hard to move his head.

“It’s alright Jack,” a voice floated from his left, and faintly, as though disembodied, he felt a hand wrap around his. He still couldn’t move his head, which was _damnably_ annoying, and the stranger must’ve realized that because suddenly _holy fuck_ there was a _gorgeous example of masculine aesthetic hovering above him with a tender look and watery eyes._

“Jack,” the stunning creature murmured reverently, long, dark hair water-falling around his face, the shade much easier to adjust to. _“Jack.”_ with a jolt, he realized that _he_ was Jack, and this perfect, beautiful, handsome man was saying _his_ name.

“Nhhhggg?” he gurgled embarrassingly, and the beautiful creature choked on a laugh, his tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. _Don’t cry,_ Jack wanted to say, _I don’t know what I did but please don’t cry_.

“Mr. Yuan, I’m glad that your husband is awake as well, but please don’t overcrowd him. It might be overstimulating or disorienting.” The doctor said with a muted twinkle of happiness in her voice, and Jack blinked and Mr. Yuan, as he was apparently called, disappeared from sight. Jack’s mind was still fuzzy and rolled over the ‘husband’ bit without making much sense of it, or much of anything that was going on, really; all he knew was that Mr. Yuan was _damn_ pretty.

“Jack, if you’re feeling up to it before you inevitably fall asleep, I’d like to ask you a few questions to make sure everything is alright. I’m going to ask you some yes or no questions, and in response I’d like for you to tap once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’. Do you understand?” she asked slowly, while gently tapping the finger she wanted him to motion with. He mulled over that for a moment before making an approving noise and tapping once with his right index. The doctor smiled. Jack was almost 79% sure that Mr. Yuan was still holding his other hand.

“Right then; Your name is Jack Spicer,” she stated. He tapped once.

“Good. You were born on November 31st, 1993?” He processed this information for only a moment before realizing it was true and tapped once again. He felt Mr. Yuan’s hand squeeze his in support and attempted, briefly, weakly, to squeeze back. He could feel more than see Mr. Yuan’s grin.

“You are interested in engineering and robotics and have won seven awards for your technological advancements,” at this, Jack frowned and his eyes closed. Groggily, he remembered a plaque being presented to him, very faintly, and flashing lights, but only once could he remember this happening. He tapped twice. He felt the atmosphere turn a little bit grim.

“No? How many awards have you won? Tap once for one, tap twice for two, thrice for three, four for four, and so on,” he felt something tense radiating around him, and tiredly, he only tapped once. Both the doctor and Mr. Yuan seemed to be waiting, but when he did not proceed, he heard a choking noise from his left and harsh scribbling on a clipboard to his right.

“This does not bode well. Mr. Spicer, have you ever been married? Once for yes and twice for no.” He tapped twice, and felt Mr. Yuan’s hand freeze solidly.

“...I see. Mr. Spicer, if you could open your eyes please, I’ll let you rest in a moment. I’d like you to tell me what year it is, based on your memory. Use your hands to sign each number consecutively, and please take your time.”

Disgruntled, his eyes opened from the haze of comfortable darkness and slowly adjusted to the light. He could see, out of his peripherals, Mr. Yuan almost leaning over the bed, but all Jack could do was stare at the ceiling and, subsequently, the doctor’s face when she hovered over him.

Slowly and with a lot more effort than he’d have liked to admit, he stuck out the appropriate number of fingers; two, a fist, one, and another fist. 2010. He heard a sharp inhale at the last fist and wanted to turn to Mr. Yuan and reassure him, ask him what was wrong, but he saw the doctor leave his sight, heard her walk around the bed; he felt Mr. Yuan’s rigid hand disentangle from his and the doctor finally saying, “ _...you can go to sleep now, Mr. Spicer...”_ , loud noises made distant by encroaching sleep, and finally, all faded to black.

* * *

 

When he woke next, he barely managed to remember his last time awake before a doctor, a male this time. was hovering over him.

“Good morning Mr. Spicer! Or rather, good afternoon. My name is Dr. Xiao Lin, but you can call me Omi. I’m here to help you with your first physical therapy session!” Jack groaned aloud at the chipper-voiced doctor and decided he liked the lady doctor much, _much_ better already.

It took a few weeks, but finally he was able to move his neck and arms again, although for nothing too strenuous; he could be propped up and look around, and pick up small paper cups with water, but nothing else. He regularly saw Dr. Omi and Dr. Tohomiko, who had been the doctor there to help him wake up. He could speak now as well, albeit usually for only a few minutes at a time, but it was an improvement.

He also found out that the reason he’d been having such difficulties was because he’d been in a goddamn _coma_ for six freaking months. Dr. Pedrosa, who was in charge of his dosages, said it’d been because of a freak accident in his lab- a bunch of wiring had come loose and the brunt of his latest project, which was about one and half tons, swung down and _literally_ tossed him into the wall- which sounded really cool but also absolutely unbelievable; sure he’d won an award, but he didn’t have anywhere near the amount of funds needed for the massive robotics project he’d been attempting. Or, at least, he didn’t remember that he did. It all seemed pretty inconceivable, but eventually they brought it up on their tablets to show him, although they carefully sectioned what they were showing him; it made him wonder aggravatingly what he might have to hide.

But on the bright side, Mr. Yuan- or, Chase, as he preferred Jack call him- had visited him. Jack felt as though he’d won a lottery he’d never bought a ticket for; Chase was intelligent conversation, and freely filled him in on whatever the doctors carefully left out. He updated Jack on the future- at least, what felt to Jack like the future. Everyone seemed to know what was going on and Jack was left behind in the dust, something that made him absolutely uncomfortable as one of the leading engineers in the technological world. But Chase was patient with him, which he was thankful for, although he barely needed it as he caught on extraordinarily fast. It’d been one of the gifts that had gotten into the market of competitive technologies.

Even some of his memories had started coming back, which had relieved both Chase and the doctors, but seemingly different reasons, and with different reactions. Dr.s Tohomiko, Pedrosa and Omi were obviously pleased, but Chase only seemed more and more restless as the weeks weathered on without results he was pleased with. Jack almost wondered if Chase were his competitor for this reason, but his gentleness and patience with Jack- not to mention that blurry memory of waking up to Chase’s near-crying face- made him believe otherwise.

By now jack had remembered the majority of 2011 and 2012, just flashes of things from here and there; a scar on the back of his elbow from when he’d leaned on a bunsen burner from the summer of 2012. The day after the Christmas party in 2011. Simple things, but still it felt as though there was something major missing. The past five and a half years, obviously, but something _more_. While he knew it wouldn’t be healthy to trigger himself, he constantly came up with wild scenarios and examined the medical tools. Maybe that one resembled some tool he’s used to work on a green-energy car? But not much came back that way, if anything.

It hit him three months after he’d woken up that maybe it was not _somethings_ , but a _someone_ that was missing. He’d walked clumsily back from physical therapy with the new guy, Nurse Clay, but independently all the same. By the time he got back to his room he nearly collapsed on the bedside dresser, and the second-to-last drawer slid open. Jack frowned when he heard an unfamiliar noise; he hadn’t explored all the drawers simply because he’d thought they were empty, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

He pushed himself, trembling, onto the bed before using the rest of his energy to reach into the drawer; he felt the object, small and smooth and circular, and knew what it was before he even looked at it.

* * *

 

The next time Chase walked into his room, Jack was seated on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

“You’re my husband, aren’t you?” he asked, and before he could say anything else, Chase had his face buried in Jack’s knees, trembling and murmuring quiet blessings in Mandarin. He looked up at Jack with shining eyes.

“Do you remember? Tell me that you remember, please,” he almost begged, and Jack frowned marginally; he didn’t remember much, but this attitude didn’t resemble anything he thought he knew.

“Kind of. Barely. I, I need some help,” he licked his lips as Chase stood abruptly.

“What can I do?” He gripped Jack’s hands tightly, and the albino smiled, and it was tiny, almost shy. He slipped his hands out of Chase’s and lifted them near painfully slowly to his possible husband’s face; Chase’s eyes slipped closed and it almost felt like he was _purring_ in pleasure as he leaned into Jack’s touch.

“I need you to kiss me,” Jack murmured, moving in closer, and before he could take his next breath Chase’s lips were on him, pushing, desperately, attempting to help find what had been lost and reclaim what had once been his all at once. Jack’s noise of surprise as he was pushed backward onto the shitty hospital bed was swallowed by Chase’s greedy lips, opening and pushing his tongue into Jack’s before he could moan at the feeling.

Stars started exploding in Jack’s peripherals, sent sparks of memories; _him and Chase, 2013, meeting for the first time, offices, laboratories, test sites, next to Chase’s car, looking agitated, waiting to shove the key in, looking surprised, leaning up against the car, getting so roughly molested between two cars it could’ve been grappling, that one goddamn night and those quiet mournful days, Chase’s hair being longer when he saw him next, having it wrapped around his fingers, silk sheets, italian bistros, roses, bags under their eyes, corporate business, private business, 2014, Chase asleep, Chase awake, Chase angry, Chase regretful, Chase proud, Chase behind and in front and all over the place and Chase Chase Chase Chase 2015 Chase Chase Chase Wedding Mr. Yuan Chase Chase_ **_Chase-_ **

All the memories that hit him at once suddenly halted and he groaned deeply, causing the Chinese bombshell currently turning his neck into a work of art to halt, legs straddling Jack’s hips and hands halfway up his shirt. It took a moment for Jack to realize that his hands themselves were under the back of Chase’s shirt, feeling those disgustingly perfect muscles for the first and thousandth time, and the other gripping Chase’s ass like he’d fall off the edge of oblivion if he didn’t.

“...Jack?” Chase murmured into Jack’s skin, warming it with his breath, vibrating, mingling with Jack’s sweet, agitated moan.

“Keep at it you great fucking lizard,” he brazenly squeezed Chase’s ass, causing him to start and rub their straining cocks together, which just made the situation even _worse..._ Or, well, better actually. “I wanna wake up from my afternoon nap unable to walk and unable to tell Omi _jack shit.”_

 _“Jack,”_ Chase breathed against his neck, and everything was heavenly and right in the world... and then Chase regrouped and utterly _wrecked_ Jack for his evening therapy, even though he did, in fact, tell Omi why.


	5. Flower Fairy AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower Fairy AU, brought to us by Lionel!  
> Please see after-chapter notes for the full prompt.

Today was simply _horrendous._

Chase pinched the bridge of his nose, a terrible headache wreaking havoc on his temper. Two of his servants had gotten into a fight and had ripped each other open with their claws, wrecking the room they’d been in; he’d gone out to watch Wuya in a showdown to test her loyalty, and the useless wretch had lost him the Wu he’d possessed.

And that _damn fairy_ was _buzzing_ in his _ears!!!_

Chase let out a low growl as it made a particularly loud noise, causing it to squeak and tumble down his shoulder. He swiftly caught it, but instead of putting it back on his shoulder for the fourth time, he dropped it carelessly on the arm of his throne as he stood and walked away.

He’d found the thing months ago after a showdown where he’d soundly bested the young monk of fire in a match, obtaining one of the Wu he’d only just lost.

 

* * *

 

_“You’re getting good, young monk,” Chase intoned from across the clearing, easily holding three Wu._

_“But not good enough.” He smirked._

_“C’mon guys, let’s get outta here,” young Raimundo called, and they made their getaway on the back of Dojo._

_Chase huffed, unsurprised by their defeat but no more happy for it. He longed for proper opponents, not measly warm ups._

_He was about to stroll back into the forest himself when he heard a squeak to his right, and glancing toward a bush, he saw a flash of red._

_Curiosity peaked, he waited a moment more, waiting with unnatural patience for the presence to reveal itself again. When a moment went by and nothing happened, he turned and began walking into the woods, keeping his senses on high alert._

_He strolled at a leisurely pace instead of his usual bursting run, waiting out his prey, waiting for it to make a mistake._

_He didn’t have to wait long._

_It revealed itself several times before tumbling into his path- literally. A flash of red here, a tiny laugh there, the sound of a bell, and then it slipped off the broadleaf it was perched on, falling with a prolonged bell-like screech onto the petals of a flower to his right._

_He stopped, more than a bit surprised when the tiny figure revealed itself, shaking its vibrant red head while kneeling on the flower._

_It was a...fairy?_

_It was_ probably _a fairy, Chase remarked to himself as the thing got hold of its bearings. It was tiny, even smaller than most children’s toys, pale-skinned with vibrant red hair and eyes. From its back grew a beautiful pink camellia, nestled tightly beneath its shoulder blades. It seemed to wear some sort of tights, but he couldn’t know more without further inspection._

_He’d only ever heard about them by word of mouth through silly fairy tales, and the little he knew about them echoed their rarity; truly, he had no intention of scouring the earth for fairies in his quest for knowledge, but this one seemed unordinarily brave... or stupid._

_The tiny thing finally seemed to realize where it was after the panic wore off, glancing about, catching sight of Chase’s legs and following them up, up, up. Tiny red rubies met Chase’s glittering golden eyes and the tiniest of peeps came from the fairy._

_They were both still for a moment before the fairy grinned widely, waving at Chase so frantically he thought it might wobble off the flower. He raised a single eyebrow as it spoke speedily in its soft, tinkling language, motioning wildly all the while. It seemed to poorly mimic some of the martial arts he’d used earlier and he stifled an amused hum._

_Finally he took a knee in front of the tiny thing, causing it to pause, and stuck his finger out to it. The fairy looked at him deeply with ruby eyes before tittering to itself, face turning a vibrant red blush as it took hold of his finger and shook it. It tried to shake his finger as if it knew what the concept of it was but had never actually done it, and this time Chase did huff, mildly amused. The tiny fairy melted in response, laying its torso dramatically on his finger with a dreamy expression on its face._

_“And just what is your name, little one?” Chase asked it in a slow murmur. It simply perked up and watched him with an attentive eyes and a small smile, waiting for him to say more. No communicating with it, then._

_“I must be going, little one. I can’t stay here all day with you,” he said to it, attempting to let it slide off his finger and back onto the flower. It quickly grabbed hold of his finger with a yelp, scrambling to maintain a proper hold on Chase. He gently scooped it in his other hand and lowered it back to the flower, but it clung stubbornly to his wrist and pouted at him._

_They considered each other for a moment before Chase finally sighed. Without warning he tugged his collar open and dropped it in, waiting for it to stop squeaking and take hold of his shirt._

_“Fine,” he allowed, “you will be my first fairy servant, then. Hold on, little one.” he warned, crouching, and moments later they were off, bounding through the trees while the tiny fairy’s peals of laughter followed them, a cold breeze brewing in their wake._

 

* * *

 

He’d taken it home, and in a matter of days it had become a staple of regular life in his palace.

Wherever he went it would follow, little voice tinkling like bells whenever it wanted to get his attention.

The thing slept in his garden during the day and would rise during the night, something a bit of research made sense of- it seemed as though paler fairies were the ones birthed in moonlight, and darker were the ones born to day. It took in the moonlight as sustenance which, Chase had to admit, was impressive.

Surprisingly, it got along with his other servants without even needing to be charmed. It was terrified of the big cats at first, them being even bigger to such a tiny creature, but with time they seemed to come to an impasse of each other. The cats were an easy way for a tiny, flightless fairy to get around efficiently, and the tiny fairy was _fantastic_ for grooming and getting the knots out of fur. Not to mention the fairy gave them endless amounts of attention, which they adored.

He discovered the thing eating the red flowers out of his garden, which he thought might end up being a problem, but it only ate so very little, and it seemed to maintain the color in the thing’s hair. Once it had made a snack out of some Winter Aconite he’d been growing, and the thing’s hair and eyes turned a vibrant yellow. Chase hadn’t been able to contain his amusement. The fairy had been very cross.

Some days when he’d ventured out into the fresh winter cold, he’d bring back different technological baubles for the thing to play with, which it appreciated immensely. It seemed to take no greater joy than in discovering the secrets behind different technologies. He’d gone and dusted off the old television he’d nabbed years and years ago, just to see what the tiny thing would do with it, and within an hour the fairy had had it up and running. Then it had taken it apart and put it back together again, over and over, just for fun.

Days had turned to weeks and Chase, against his own will, felt concern for the little thing. The camellia on its back had turned from pink to a bright red. It seemed to act no different, following him around as often as it had before, but it was a bit quieter now, and far less demanding. Every once in awhile Chase would find tiny bits and bobs and knickknacks left for him, or at least that’s what he presumed was happening. Screws with strings tied in bows, marbles laid on lace, and once an old tin soldier painted with flower pigments, the tiniest of ribbons tied in a bow about its neck.

That one he kept in his nightstand.

That, and its startling lack of clothing. That had sorted itself out after a while- Chase found tiny jackets made of stray cat hairs and tunics made of spider silk, but if it could, the tiny thing seemed to prefer being bare-chested, to let the flower on its back be free.

All in all it was a good partnership. Chase made sure to have his other servants take notes on its behavior, so Chase could expand his knowledge. Most days, the fairy was a tiny delight. Some days, a minor annoyance.

Today, the thing was _absolutely_ pestering him.

The petals on its back had begun to turn white, and while Chase would’ve been concerned, he’d noted that the red petals had caused no serious changes in the little fairy, and was thus unconcerned. However, it seemed to make it its job to try and communicate with him today. Most of the time they got along well; the thing whistled or spoke in its tinkling language if it needed his attention, and they generally worked out whatever it was it needed swiftly.

Today not so much. No matter what he’d tried to deduce earlier, the thing had cut him off, apparently realizing it was a dead end. That left Chase frustrated, because they hadn’t had a serious problem before, and even though it had _seemed_ to get over the issue, it was now attempting to get his attention about something _else._ Not to mention his earlier frustrations with his servants and that damnable _witch_ , making his life just _that much_ unnecessarily difficult.

He’d had _enough_ , and that’s what he roared, quelling the fairy’s incessant tinkling and his servant’s occasional territorial yowls. The room was silent for only a moment as his glare directed his servants to leave, and _quickly_. He heaved a frustrated sigh, but his anger faltered as he turned to look at his fairy companion again.

The thing was silent, considering, but its entire expression yelled _gloomy_. Even the flower on its back seemed to droop with unhappiness, and, for the first time in a long time, Chase felt the tiniest curl of regret in his gut.

He quickly squashed it.

“I’ll be going out,” he announced to it and the otherwise empty room. Not that it could understand him. It simply watched him, solemn line of its mouth stuck in place.

“Stick with the other servants for now, and you would do well not to aggravate them. Head to the garden,” he commanded, or at least tried. Those big red eyes shone back at him, but he turned his back to it.

 _I am not fleeing,_ he had to think to himself as he left his palace that day to blow off some steam.

 _I am_ **_not_ **.

 

* * *

 

Chase was officially panicking.

It had taken a bit for him to get to this level, he had to admit to himself, but there he was, furiously digging through the pile of electronics in the tinkering room, searching.

For his-.

For the fairy.

It had started only a few weeks ago.

* * *

  _“Fairy,” he called out, poking his head into the door of the tinkering room. “Fairy, I have-” he faltered._

_The fairy wasn’t in the room, at least not that he could see. Which was incredibly... odd. The fairy was always in the tinkering room at this hour of night as the moon was generally at its zenith, endlessly prying or banging or messing with something._

_Chase took a moment to give the whole room a good look around, placing the busted old radio on one of the workshop tables. It was something he just_ knew _the fairy would enjoy working on, considering the challenge of how worn it was with age._

_That is, if the fairy were there. Where it was supposed to be._

_Chase ducked out of the room and checked the second most likely spot- his bedroom._

_Generally the fairy took the nights up with one of the extra pillows set on his bed, or on the nightstand, or in his socks. Perhaps the fairy had slept in late, also something not unusual, although definitely odd considering the hour. But when he searched his room, it was nowhere to be found._

_Confused and, against his better judgement, concerned, he then moved his search to the garden. After a few minutes, a gusting sigh of relief threatened to leave Chase as he found the fairy resting in its usual haunt, the bonsai tree Chase had been cultivating for many years._

_Gently he kneeled to its level, weighing his options when the fairy itself seemed to decide that now was the perfect time to awake. It did so gracelessly, stretching its whole self and enacting a tiny jaw-cracking yawn, silent to Chase._

_“What in the world were you doing sleeping there, little one?” Chase questioned it. At the sound of his voice, the little fairy seemed to shake itself into alertness, leaning over to give Chase a big smile. Its eyes still fluttered under the weight of sleepiness, simultaneously large and tiny red pools of its eyes glittering supernaturally._

_“If you’re done sleeping in, I have another project for you... if you’d like to take a look at it,” he mentioned as he reached out, palm facing upward. The tiny fairy smiled and slid on his hand, joining him for the rest of the night._

 

* * *

 

It had only gotten worse from there, however.

As the height of winter had been broken through and the weeks began to warm, the little fairy seemed to become more and more inattentive, falling asleep in the most random and worrying places. As its petals turned finally from fading red to mirrored stark white of its skin, it grew more and more lethargic, wandering idly around his palace at odd hours of the night.

The tinge of its skin seemed to dull as well, the once vibrant shine from the moonlight even doing nothing to restore its healthy glow.

For the heavens’ sake, even the damn _cats_ had begun to act worried about it, nudging the tiny thing when it started to nod off randomly, and when it did fall into slumber, yowling or retrieving him until they were assured it was safe.

And now he’d _lost it._

He’d been frantically searching for over two hours now, and the tiny fairy was _nowhere;_ the gardens were empty; the kitchen was quiet; his bedroom was silent.

Finally he’d stopped into the tinkering room where he was now searching, and there was absolutely _nothing_. Not a peep, not a clatter, nothing. Only worrying silence.

That is, until a few feet away from him, the loose lid of a tin can opened with a twanging _pop!_

He spun to face it with alarming speed and felt the tension leak out of him at the sight of two tiny arms struggling to wrap around the lip of the box.

Swiftly he walked over and tipped the tin into his hand, where the tiny fairy and several small screws and such tumbled out. He idly tugged a stool over with his foot and sat, examining the fairy under the light of the worklamp.

It looked tired. Now that he examined it closer, he could see that it was thinner than before, a dull grey sheen to its skin instead of its usual shimmering self. There were deep bags under its eyes, which were no longer the vibrant ruby it once maintained, but a dull, glossed-over pink. Its hair appeared to be fading too, having rapidly lost its vibrant coloring over the past few days.

The tiny fairy glanced up at him with heavy eyes, blinking slowly, dully. A small smile spread across its lips as it leaned into the curve of his hand, nuzzling the warm flesh there. Instinctively Chase pulled it closer to his chest, the urge to cradle it overwhelming his good sense to leave the thing be, to not allow it so close.

It touched the hard shell of his armor only for a moment until Chase dissipated it with a snap of his fingers, bringing it to lie against the soft silk stretched across his chest. There it nuzzled against him, into the warmth, into his quickly calming heartbeat.

It was silent for a moment, Chase simply breathing in time with it, forcing himself to accept the reality that the little fairy was ill and that he certainly was not helping it.

“You gave me quite the scare, little one,” he admitted quietly, wrapped up in the little world of the fairy. Its eyes opened slowly, face turned now to look at him.

“You appeared most like a little Jack-in-the-box. Not many can get the drop on me. I must admit, I’m almost proud,” he said to it softly.

The little thing smiled, and Chase felt, unsurprisingly, more emotion well up in his throat. The little thing had a way of doing that with him, making him feel things he hadn’t in so long. He almost wondered how, but as it lay there weakly against him, he realized he’d already let the damn thing to close to him, let it past his armor, let it lay against his beating heart.

The thing shifted back into the warmth of his chest, and as it did, he realized one of the pale camellia petals had fallen out, the edges of it tinged brown with the natural hues of decay.

And that settled it.

“Do not worry,” he whispered, one hand gently brushing the faded hair on its head.

“I will take you home.”

 

* * *

 

The next night he set out, blazing across the countrysides back to the place where he’d first found the fairy. With a few of his most loyal and capable servants at his side and the rest guarding his sanctuary, he’d taken off at a blistering pace, the tiny fairy wrapped comfortably in a fur-lined pouch he’d tucked into his shirt.

In no time at all he’d passed mountains and valleys, plains and cities and well-worn paths until he’d finally made it to the forest clearing, feeling as though he had no time to spare.

The clearing was different. All around him dead plants and grass were laid bare to the elements, broken trees and bushes and other signs of the violent event once held there still visible, but nature overcoming it. The barest hints of melting snow dashed upon the ground; new plants and bulbs barely breaking through the still-yellowed grass; winter camellia blooms now fading under the encroaching power of the spring heat.

Once stopped he carefully unraveled the cord to the pouch and laid it out on his palm, allowing the tiny fairy ample room to breathe and move. It barely seemed to have the energy to sit up straight, much less walk, so Chase wandered over to the dying camellias, all varying shades from white to pink to red. He maneuvered his hand so it rested right next to the blooms, he and his loyal cats crowding around in the moonlight, eagerly waiting for... _something_.

But that something did not come. The tiny fairy’s head lulled weakly to look at the blossoms, reaching out to gently stroke a white camellia petal closest to it.

“There you go,” he told it, settling his knee into the dirt, feeling the almost pleasant familiarity of the scene wash over him. The echo of more pleasant times resonated shallowly within him as his hopes began to rise.

“If this is where you will thrive, then you must go. No longer will you be my servant.” he continued, gently motioning it toward the petals. The shake seemed to take the last of the fight out of it however, and it collapsed in his palm with a weak tinkling yelp. A thick feeling rose in his throat as it quivered, tiny palms curling against the fabric in his hand.

“No, no, no, you must _go_ ,” he commanded it, both knees sharply in the dirt now. He could feel the dirt accumulating under the nails of his free hand as it dug into the yet cold earth, so he brought it up to cradle the thing doubly. In his foolish desperation, he gave it another short shake.

“I said _go!”_ he snarled. “You are of no use to me _dead!_ ”

But it took no heed.

Weakly, the fairy gathered itself to pull along the fabric up to his wrist, where it laid its arms around it in a tired mockery of its once stubborn and unfailing grip.

Chase closed his eyes, and for a long minute, he simply breathed, feeling the gentle touch tickle his skin.

“Alright,” he conceded after a moment. The word came out nearly cracking, so he gathered himself, fighting all the way for his strict composure.

“Alright. You win.” he told it, and bundled it back in the pouch, only tucking it against his heart this time.

“Servants, turn around!” he commanded. “We head home!”

 

* * *

 

The fairy died two days later.

Chase almost felt more guilty for not killing it and putting it out of its own misery, as it seemed to be a slow road for the thing to pass.

In its final twenty four hours the thing could only barely sit up, and seemed to be fighting against the clock the whole way.

In its final six, all the petals had fallen off the camellia on its back, creating a morbidly gentle cushion for it to lay on.

In the last hour, the thing had gently motioned, arm waving weakly as high as it could get it.

 

* * *

 

_Chase, who had been sitting cross-legged in front of it and deploying his servants to get whatever it needed of them, eagerly leaned forward. It lay on its bed of petals, but also on the layers of silk and flannel Chase had laid out in the patch of garden for it, surrounded by the other withering blooms of camellias in this section of his garden._

_It had continually waved for him until his nose was practically pressed against it, scared that if he got any closer he’d squish it to death by accident, and wouldn’t that be just horrendous? When he was as close as he dared, the little fairy leaned up with the last of its willpower and took his chin between its tiny hands and leaned up up up, until its head was equal to his lips, and then it kissed him._

_It relation to him, it only ended up feeling like a soft tickle against the corner of his lower lip, but he pulled back quickly when his whole mouth started to tingle with an odd invading magic. It dissipated swiftly enough, but he was left touching his lips in surprise, staring intently at the little fairy._

_“What in the world did you do, little one?” he asked it absentmindedly, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer._

_Which was why it shocked him so much when the tiny thing smiled at him and freaking replied._

_“I thought I’d like to hear your rumbly voice and understand it at least once before I go to my garden bed,” it replied, and he was stunned, too used to that sometimes aggravating tinkle to respond with any cleverness. Its voice was high, but masculine, and not the least bit scratchy with the weakness Chase knew it possessed._

_“You mean we could have been conversing this entire time? And you simply decided to withhold this from me?” he growled, frustrated at this new information. The tiny fairy’s mischievous smile fell, and he nearly regretted his response._

_“Yes, but it is a gift rarely granted to any larger being, human or not,” it replied. Its eyes slid closed and a weak smile returned._

_“‘Sides, I can’t just go around kissing people. Even among the fair folk that's weird, although I’ve been informed that I’m a bit aggravating,” it quipped. Chase felt the back of his neck heat up._

_“You could understand me this entire time?” he uttered, and the thing shrugged._

_“Bits and pieces. You humans have too many languages.” it retorted, settling with a sigh into the petals. Chase was brought out of his frustration by the stark reminder that all of this would come to end soon anyway, and the thought sobered him into stillness._

_They sat there for a long few moments, Chase taking in all the new information solemnly, eyes roaming over the completely pale figure of the fairy beneath the layers of silk and other fabrics._

_“Do you... do fairies possess names?” he finally asked, feeling far too loud in the otherwise quiet room. The fairy’s eyes slid open._

_“...Not in the human fashion, no,” it slowly said. “I am one of the fair folk of the Camellia, born to the winter moon. I am titled a camellia. For most, that’s enough.”_

_“Ah,” Chase replied, uneasy._

_“But I do admire the human fashion of naming. Names have power,” it wisely muttered. It took a moment for the fairy to speak again._

_“You called me something before that I rather liked,” it said. Chase scoured his memory._

_“Aggravating?” he supplied. The fairy let loose a quiet, startled laugh, but it quickly died down into a heavy breath._

_“No, no, something...” it trailed, its eyes sliding shut._

_“A Jack-in-the-box?” Chase puzzled out, leaning in closer._

_A smile graced the fairy’s face._

_“Yes,” it whispered. “I’d like to be titled one of those. A Jack...”_

_“Jack,” Chase whispered, stroking the bleached white hair of the fairy, ignoring the tight squeeze in his heart._

_“Jack it is then,”_

 

* * *

 

And then it had passed, although not before asking him to be buried within the dirt itself, but without any further trappings than perhaps the silk and flannel.

Solemnly he had done so after he watched it’s- _Jack’s_ body go still, and with minimal fanfare had he buried the tiny fairy in the soft soil, only a handful or two into the dirt with the rest of the camellia.

He spent the rest of the night and most of the following morning staring at the settling patch of dirt, halfway into an accidental meditative state until he finally roused himself from his protective perch. He ignored the mournful yowls of the friendly of his servants as they themselves crowded around the spot, given their own chance at mourning.

Chase stood and walked out of the garden, not once looking back.

 

* * *

 

The following months passed with startling ease.

Chase went throughout his daily routine as he had before Jack had come into his life, the other pieces falling into line as easily or begrudgingly as they may. His servants became used to their lives without Jack. Chase meditated, and trained, and tinkered and drank the soup of the dragons and fought in showdowns and won and lost and... it all became a blur.

And he tinkered.

And he slept.

And he gardened.

But when he tinkered, the haunting ambience of a fellow tinkerer did not come with it.

When he slept, he kept still, although he no longer needed to worry about disturbing a stray pillow on his massive, empty bed.

And when he gardened...

Well.

He kept his winter-blooming bulbs well watered and fed, sometimes to the point of obsession, to the point of losing track of his other plants and flowers, but only on the days when he lost focus and regained it when he realized he’d been staring at the same damn plot of earth for hours on end.

But he lived, and with ease. He lived with the ease of someone who had done so for thousands of years, undisturbed by time, often feeling trapped within their own luxury.

He lived.

And he lived with no mention of the feeling of loss that followed him around in the form of a tiny void in his damn chest.

 

* * *

 

It was only a week after All Hallow’s Eve that year when he noticed a single bud of green popping out of the ground in that one daunting plot of soil in his garden.

Within a week, the bud had grown tall and strong, far faster than its fellows resting on shrubs, and Chase nurtured it to the point of obsession.

Within two, the beginnings of a flower had started to bud, and Chase took up the habit of meditating by it. To watch it grow, he told himself. To teach himself patience.

Two days later, the flower bloomed.

 

Chase watched it under the gentle rays of moonlight, just barely after the sun had set, as the final petals of the camellia peeled open into a full bloom, Chase _actually_ thought he may cry, for the first time in over a thousand years. It was a beautiful, vibrant red camellia, and now that he had bothered to look up the symbolism behind such a thing, he choked back a laugh at the thought of only how fitting it was.

And then, an hour later...

The flower shifted to the side.

Two hands, gentle and pale, revealed themselves, swiftly following by two legs, uncurling, twisted in the barest threads of green petals.

The flower shifted even more and tipped completely to the side, revealing a tiny pale form, curled up while sleeping.

Chase held his breath,

The fairy’s eyes fluttered, and two rubies shone up at him, emboldened by vibrant red hair.

The figure smiled.

“Hello, Chase.” it whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He smiled.

“Hello, Jack.”

 

* * *

 { Some lovely fanart provided by the equally lovely Lionel : follow the link [HERE](http://taynannataly.deviantart.com/art/Fairy-Jack-657390825) }

{ And some more adorable shots of Jack be the fantastic Edipo : follow the link [HERE](https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/156911982330/sT4uugm9) }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "jack is a literal fairy and chase found him on a showdown once, fairy jack thinks chase is a badass after watching him battling the xiaolin and goes fanboy instantaneous and just follows him home  
> Chase is in a bad mood because he can't make the fairy go away and worse he is starting to think of the fairy as cute!!"  
> +  
> "I read a book years ago were the principal was a fairy and in the book universe fairy biology was like plants they need water and sun but the rest of nutrients they absorbed eating, they only eat plants, depending the hour they decide they sun basking it affected they skin tone from really dark to tan and theyou eye and hair color were defined by they diet  
> If you like eating carrots and oranges most your eyes and hair will be orange
> 
> Jack prefers eating red roses and flowers and he loves the moonlight instead of sunlight  
> He likes human tech a lot
> 
> In the book the fairy grew one big flower in their back in the season they were born (they don't have wings) and it was what they used to reproduce... (in the book they said fairies have the gender parts for fun) also their blood is nectar and they breath in carbon and breath out oxygen"
> 
> Feel free to send me other prompts!!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments or other prompt ideas to add to the list in the comment section below, I'm always interested in expanding my list of au prompts.


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